


A Butterfly and a Bentley

by IneffableAlien



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Butterfly Effect, Chaos Theory, Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Rants, Romantic Fluff, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 20:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21003857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableAlien/pseuds/IneffableAlien
Summary: Crowley got to finish his sentence before he hit Anathema with his car, and then some.  A vignette.





	A Butterfly and a Bentley

“But it’s everywhere … all over here. Love—flashes of love.”

And somewhere in China, a butterfly flapped its wings.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Crowley grumbled. “Last thing we need right now is,” he waved his hand for emphasis, “to get distracted by some gooey nonsense.” Crowley found himself practically praying, if the Almighty could just throw him a blessed bone for once, for something, anything, to derail the conversation. Maybe he’d get really lucky and get into an accident—hit a deer, or a door-to-door salesman taking an odd evening stroll.

“‘Gooey nonsense’?” Aziraphale was affronted and made no attempt to hide it, not that he usually did. “Crowley! I don’t think you understand the significance of what I’m telling you. This is … I’m feeling a near-supernatural _fountain_ of love. There is nothing human about it. This could be the key!”

Crowley was beyond frustrated and was starting to make sounds in place of words. “Wuh, we’re talking about the Son of Satan, angel. Literally the culmination of hatred, and wrath, and, gah, I don’t know, Amazon’s spotty buffering here on earth.”

The irony was that Crowley had managed to throw Aziraphale off the topic, who was now wondering what one-breasted sapphic warriors had to do with anything and what, exactly, they were buffing. But Crowley couldn’t resist an opportunity to shoot himself in the foot with a little diluted holy water, you could say. “And anyway,” he was on the verge of a full-blown rant, “how the Hell would _we_ be the key to _anything?”_

Crowley shut his mouth, but it was too late. The damage was done.

“Well, what if—” Aziraphale stopped talking and did a double take. “What the deuce did you just say?”

For a split second, Crowley wondered if it made sense to just drive into a tree, discorporating them both, and say to Heaven with the End of the World.

“A-h-h,” Crowley replied intelligently.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s tone was still intense, but placating as though he were soothing a skittish animal. Which he was, in a manner of speaking.

Crowley threw his hands up off of the wheel. “Well, that’s what you’re going to keep driving at until I fill in the blanks, right? Like-like-like-like I’m supposed to just take all these ‘nice’ and thanks-again-for-that-by-the-way ‘flashes’ and then what, angel? Just, cancel out the Antichrist? All, oh, ‘Hello, Satan child, here, have some demonic feelings, they’re complete and utter _shite_ compared to angel feelings but we don’t carry those in stock, never have, never will, and maybe you can knit yourself a cozy afghan out of these and, oop, we tricked you, it’s _looove,_ you evil thing have no defense against THE POWER OF LOVE—’”

Aziraphale had been too stunned to speak until now. As Crowley’s self-destructive explosions went, this was a good one. Aziraphale almost wanted to see how it played out, but he wasn’t enough of a bastard to not save Crowley from himself. “Crowley,” he interrupted as softly as he could.

“Wot,” Crowley replied flatly.

“I … I wasn’t talking about you, Crowley. I wasn’t talking about … us? Frankly, I’m not even sure how we got on the subject.”

There was a thunder clap, or, the precise thud of a vintage Bentley hitting a witch in the middle of the road.

Neither of them spoke for one shocked instant. “You hit someone,” Aziraphale pointed out the obvious.

“I didn’t,” Crowley said. He seemed strangely calm. “Someone hit me.”

Aziraphale leapt out of the car and took a step toward the injured woman. He froze, and in spite of the urgency of the situation, he physically could not stop himself from swinging back around to say one last thing through the passenger side of the car.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, “and don’t think this gets you out of talking about this later.”

**Author's Note:**

> xx [siliconealien](http://siliconealien.tumblr.com)


End file.
